Feline, or The Day Daughter Didn't Get To Eat Zwei
by LittleLinor
Summary: Ciel, the Last Autumn Story. Daughter muses on his humanity and the reasons he'd rather get rid of it. If possible to trade them for a pair of whiskers. DaughterxJanuary-ish


Well this is the first time I write for this fandom. I've loved Ciel for about a year but we've been deprived of updates here in France because the editor went bankrupt. So recently I found the Korean original and the little I saw made my rampant fandom go crazy again.

So I ended up writing this. Bear with me, it's been AGES since I managed to write something. At least it'll have had the advantage of pushing me out of my writer's block.

So... Pairing is Daughter and january, because it's hinted at a lot, is awesome, and I'll be very sad if it doesn't happen.

Rating: er, G for this one. It's very mild.

For those who don't know Ciel, the last Autumn Story, PM me and I'll tell you where to find it :3

Disclaimer: I don't own Ciel.

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**Feline**

or

**The Day Daughter Didn't Get to Eat Zwei**

For neither the first nor last time, Daughter found himself absently wishing he were a cat.

He liked to think there were many reasons behind this. Cats were generally left alone when they wanted to. They could be lazy when they wanted and no one would question it. They were cute enough that they could woo food and comfort from virtually anyone they wanted. As a cat he wouldn't have to worry about getting a room in the enormous but somehow packed campus of Lowood magic school. He would just chose his room (and its inhabitants, though he had to admit he was starting to like his current room, only just a bit) instead of being chunked in the last one available.

Being a cat also meant not being a sorcerer. That fit Daughter rather well, though he knew he would miss the thrill of power. At least that way people wouldn't constantly rush to him to make use of his abilities.

And he would get to eat that damn parrot. Now _that_ was something to look forwards to.

But first and foremost, he thought with a grim smile, it would make interacting with one Count January Lightsphere much less complicated -or at least less confusing.

It had everything to do with the much necessary nine lives, of course. To be able to stick by the auburn-haired youth, he had so far needed unimaginable amounts of sheer luck, and the luxury of several lives was something he would really have needed to keep his heart in an acceptable state. Saving January -and dealing with his nightmares- was all too stressful for the poor thing.

It had everything to do with the nine lives, and nothing to do with the nagging doubt that came to itch at the border of his conscious thoughts these days, asking him if, had it been him inside that hellish pyre of a building, he would have seen the ash and flame of eyes and hair appearing out of the fire.

Nor with the way January would hold the little felines, safely tugged against his chest or shoulder, face nuzzled in locks of strawberry brown that somehow always managed to escape their ribbon. Though he has to admit that hugs make him feel more human and solid in this hollow, magical world, and that since January seems to be the only one ready to distribute them -_only to you so far_, whispers the smirking smugness in his mind, before he can dismiss it- well he wouldn't mind it happening more than those meagre two times.

At this point he tries very hard not to reflect that if he was a cat, he also probably wouldn't have the urge to flail whenever he received such hugs, which would not only make them more enjoyable, but might also increase the frequency. Which would be bothersome but maybe not so bad.

It had been the first parts that had originally made him want to change species, but as time went by he found himself concentrating on those last arguments, usually when he would stop focusing or whenever January was around, with his mixture of regal splendour and adorable vulnerability. Most of the time, the young Count, whose anxiety had largely diminished now that he was comfortable with his roommate and friends, thus reducing his need for physical human warmth, would just smile and work, occasionally chatting with him, his small melancholic smile softening his face. Every now and then he would take care of Zwei in Yvienne's stead -why oh why did that parrot have even the right to enter their room? And get such attention, too?- or nurse whatever animal he had found back to health.

At one point he considered donning the cat ears he had seen around on the stalls of a festival. It was a cry for attention and he knew it, but then his reputation for doing weird things was strong enough that he might just get away with it. He resisted the urge. First, January probably wouldn't get the hint. Second, Yvienne _would_ get the hint, and smirk the life out of him. Third, his third-year friends most likely wouldn't get the hint, but that wouldn't stop them from never letting him live it down. He dismissed the cat ears.

Daughter began to think that asking to be a cat was maybe too much. They had too many advantages and no deity would agree to such an unfair switch. Maybe he should settle for whatever species, as long as it wasn't human -but that would mean no hunting of Zwei, and he would miss that.

It was at times like these -when he caught himself staring and January would turn to him and ask oh-so-innocently if anything was wrong- that he would fall back on his own bed after a glare, trying and pretending to be asleep. He rarely went to sleep before January did -his rhythm was capricious, causing him to sleep at random times to make up for his nightly excursions- but this time as he was drifting away in his thoughts, attempting to finally fall asleep, he felt a presence, all to close compared to the last weeks.

Then a hand in his hair, pushing it back in place, and he could _feel_ the smile on January's face. Fingers grazed the back of his neck and he did the most uncharacteristic thing he had done since he'd found himself rushing into a burning house.

He purred.

Above him January started to chuckle, a sound so rare that Daughter opened his eyes in surprise and turned around to see him. His surprised look must have been as far from his usual composed self as January's nearly giggly chuckle was from his normal sad smile, because that chuckle turned into a real, good-hearted laugh, and he had to wonder how January's face suddenly lit up in the frail glow of a night-time candlelit room.

"What's so funny?"

The laugh stopped but the radiant, _playful_ smile remained. Daughter suddenly felt like hunting down the entire Lightsphere family to make them pay for making it so rare.

"Nothing… just… I didn't know you could purr."

Well, it was time to make the most of things, he mused. Rising on one of his arms in a very feline fashion, he smirked at January.

"Oh you didn't know? I was a cat in my past life. I rather miss it."

January laughed, a honest and happy laugh that he had never given any of his smaller winged or furry protégés, and Daughter though that maybe being human wasn't that bad after all.

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Thanks for reading and please review.


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